


Indiscriminate Bits

by loved_ice



Series: Prompts Galore [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loved_ice/pseuds/loved_ice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-connecting Tumblr prompts: Miscellaneous edition! </p>
<p>Includes: Drunken hilarity twice, a beloved Eggsy, and a promise of more to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eggsy will make everyone friends no matter the cost

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Probably the last Tumblr prompt work I'll have up here. Just for organization, basically. This is the miscellaneous one! So everything that isn't Hartwin or Merwin goes here. 
> 
> If there's a prompt you end up liking a lot, let me know! Maybe I'll expand on it or make it a full fic if there's enough interest and I liked writing it enough.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoy all of this! 
> 
> First prompt from anonymous: Prompt? Harry is highly susceptible to sugar. So he takes his tea with milk, no honey, no sugar whatsoever because the last time he had an ice cream cone, Merlin and Lancelot had to bodily drag him away from the park because the hyper man was scaring all of the little children when he commandeered the seesaw so that he could pretend that he was surfing.

Kingsman isn’t a normal job, but the agents are still human. Percival stubbornly refuses to organize his desk, despite its chaos (”I have a system!”), Gareth consistently dozes off during meetings, Tristan insists on charging expensive meals to the Kingsman account during missions, Gawain will blather on about his army days if given ample opportunity, Bors listens to Taylor Swift in the gym, and Galahad is consistently late to /everything/. They have their ways and their quirks that are separate from their mission stats and number of kills, and it shows how human they are. 

Going by that logic, Eggsy reasons, they would benefit from actually socializing with each other because humans are social animals. It’s not normal for them to work together, go on missions together, spend hours-days-weeks together, yet never interact on a familiar basis. He’s seen Percival (first name: Andrew) talk to Harry awkwardly about the weather when they got stuck in an elevator together. For an hour. 

Eggsy doesn’t get how everyone can trust each other without having some sort of relationship with them. He hates going on missions with anyone who isn’t Roxy or Harry for that specific reason. Not that they’ve given him reason to distrust them–Kay saved his arse from becoming roadkill and Gawain hauled him out of the way of a throwing knife–but it’s uncomfortable working with these old men who obviously haven’t relaxed or talked to get to know someone in decades. 

It’s with that in mind that Eggsy organizes a pub crawl. Convincing them all to actually go–That’s not easy. Surprisingly, he has Merlin on his side. 

“I’ll stay behind and monitor headquarters,” Merlin offers quickly. They’re all sitting after a meeting, a rare opportunity where most of them are available and not sitting in with their glasses feed. “If there’s an emergency, I’ll call those of you who will remain sober.” At the skeptical looks, he adds, “When we train recruits we emphasize teamwork, yet we don’t continue that emphasis once they become agents. With as many new knights as we have thanks to the Valentine fiasco, it’ll be good for the rookies to get to know everyone at once like this.” 

With their new Arthur’s approval and subtle encouragement (plus a few threatening looks to the reluctant parties), they agree. A couple suggest their favorite pubs near by (Eggsy’s pleased to note most of them aren’t too posh. Bors (first name: George) added one that might be too new-age for the older ones but he’ll add it to the list anyway) before departing. When Eggsy’s the only one left, Merlin turns to him with stern eyes. 

“Bedivere. I expect you to ensure everyone keeps their glasses on all night.” 

“Of course.” 

“And please–Please, for the love of God–take pictures.” Eggsy blinks. “I’ll be recording everything but some things need to be taken by a third party viewer, you see.” 

“Here I thought you was worried I’d get one of ‘em killed.”

It starts off awkwardly. Of course it does–Even the newest agents don’t know how to socialize properly, apparently. 

Harry looks like he’d prefer to get shot again than be more than five meters near the rest of them. Gawain’s bitching about the government to a visibly uncomfortable Andrew. Roxy–bless her, the only one trying, and she’s really the best mate a man could ask for–is trying to draw Bors and Tristan into a discussion about the new James Bond movie. 

Like a good host, Eggsy buys a ridiculous amount of shots and bets none of them can outdrink him. Like a *wonderful* host, his shots are water since he’s already taken up the mantle of being the sober one for the night. 

After that, it spirals fairly quickly. 

It’s better than Eggsy could’ve imagined. Bors (”Call me Freddie! Seriously, y’guys are the besht, it’s Freddie to my mates–”) loses his jacket by the time they hit the fourth pub, and at that point Eggsy confiscates everyone’s wallets and phones to minimize the damages. 

Eggsy’s in the middle of recording Roxy and Harry singing Uptown Funk when an arm is slung across his shoulders. 

“Listen–Eggy, yeah? Roxanne calls you that, is that alright that I call you that?” 

“Sure thing, Andrew. You doin’ alright? Need some water?” Eggsy smiles, slapping him on the back lightly. He saves his video and shoves his phone into his pocket. 

“No no, this is important, Egg. Very, top-secret important. Okay? You listening?” He grabs Eggsy’s shoulder tightly and looks him straight in the eyes. “Your mentor–Harry H. Hart–is actually a giant, ridiculous loser. And it’s time someone told you ‘bout that. ‘Cause really, he acts like he’s this cool, suave bloke but he’s actually a loser. You got me?” 

It’s Christmas. Eggsy takes a moment to send a grateful look to the ceiling before he lets Andrew drag him back to their table where Kay and Gareth are playing quarters. 

“See, I’m the Hart expert, you see,” Andrew scoots into the booth seat and lets Eggsy sit on the end, arm still wrapped around him. “And I thought he was cool at first too, so don’t feel bad or anything after I tell you this. But James–old Lancelot, yeah?–he knew Harry real good. So after first mission I went on with him–” 

“You talking about the park mission?” Kay spins in his seat and nearly tumbles over. Eggsy catches him by the arm before he can faceplant to the floor. “Yes yes yes, pause the fuckin’ game Danny, I don’t know if you’ve heard this one and you need to you absolutely need to, mate, it’s bloody fantastic–” 

Eggsy needs a second to reconcile prim and proper Kay, stoic and silent Kay, with the babbling, cursing one in front of him. When he tunes back in, Andrew’s arms are waving as he says, “–So it’s after this shitty mission, and Merlin’s a big baby, so James says, ‘Look, we’re already in trouble, may as well get something to eat before we get chewed out’ and the only place that’s open after hearing all the gunshots is this ice cream parlor. 

“And Harry’s–We can tell from the start he didn’t really want it, but James already paid for it and Harry had a soft spot for him. So he eats this monstrosity of fudge and whipped cream in five minutes flat–We’re all still finishing when he starts fidgeting. Weird, yeah? So Merlin’s all, ‘’smatter, Galahad?’ and Harry’s all, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ because he’s still trying to make us think he’s cool.” 

Kay starts snickering. Gareth snickers too, though he’s staring at Kay so he might just be following cues. Eggsy has the same feeling of anticipation he gets whenever he’s about to open a wrapped present. Andrew takes a sloppy sip from his bright green drink before continuing. 

“By the time we’re leaving, he’s really buggin’ out. He’s fidgeting and bouncing and talking like mad. We’re all thinking ‘Shit, did someone drug him?’ except there wasn’t really time for that, so it couldn’t’ve been anything except the ice cream. Merlin’s finally all, ‘He’s on a fuckin’ sugar high. Like a two year old.’ and Harry snickers like a brat and doubles over like it’s the funniest damn thing this side of the Atlantic. 

“I swear–I swear on my mum’s grave, we looked away for just a minute. And Harry takes off–Full on sprinting for blocks, and with me injured and the other two exhausted, it took us ages to find him. 

“He’s at this lil’ rugrats park, yeah? Running around like a bloody loon–God, I wonder if Merlin still has the tapes–And laughing when any of the parentals get within ten meters of him. He leapt over like four kids, I swear. So James shoves me onto one of the benches while Merlin’s trying to convince the families to get outta there so they can handle this and making them promise not to call the police and cursing Harry the entire time. 

“So,” Andrew takes another drink, half of it falling on Eggsy’s arm because he’s laughing while he tries to drink. “So, so wait, here’s the best part. James can’t catch him, because he’s fast–My god, he was fast–And Harry ends up on the seesaw, standing on the middle part and trying to keep it balanced–He looked so focused, you would’ve thought he was defusing a bomb–When Merlin goes to tackle him, and Merlin’s right pissed by this point, you know how he gets that scrunched forehead when he’s really, really pissed. 

“And Harry dodges, but not before getting his foot caught in the–the ah, the fulcrum. He falls flat on his face. Knocks himself out on the board when he tries to get up. Broke his nose somewhere in that trainwreck.” 

Eggsy’s wheezing by that point, past laughter and into the painful, “Oh god it hurts so good” territory. Kay’s pounding his fists against the table and roaring, “Fuckin’ Hart, fuckin’ classic Hart I swear!” Gareth knocks over his own drink with the force of his snickers. 

“James had to carry him back to headquarters, got his nose blood all over his suit. And he was gonna be real nice and cover for him, say something about it being a mission-related injury. But Merlin was pissed and had no mercy. Which Harry found out when he woke up in medical with a concussion and broken nose two days later.” 

Merlin’s chuckling in Eggsy’s ear, which makes it even better. Andrew looks highly satisfied at disillusioning one of their youngest agents. He misses his mouth when he goes to suck on his straw, but it doesn’t detract from the glory that is the Park Mission Story. 

He can’t laugh for long, though, because Freddie looks like he’s about to start a fight and Roxy is egging him on. Tristan’s making out with a redhead near the pool table, and it takes an uncomfortably long amount of time to pull him away from her. 

He shuttles them all to the next pub, where Harry sits at the table and waits for drinks with Eggsy. 

And when Eggsy says, “with Eggsy”, he means, “half on top of Eggsy while Eggsy shoves a bottle of water down his throat.” 

“How about, how about this, Eggsy my boy, my favorite, how about I drink water /after/ another shot?” 

“Or how about you drink the water now? That’s a better idea, bruv.” 

“No, no I don’t think so–Listen to your mentor, I know best–” 

Roxy tries to drag Eggsy onto the dance floor with her but is easily appeased when he replaces his arm with Harry’s. She drags Harry behind her, who seems to have forgotten about more shots. 

Hours later, when the sun’s peeking over the horizon, Eggsy has deposited all of them onto beds in the training barracks. If any of them puke, it’ll be easy to clean up. Toilets are within easy reach and they all can have a shower when they wake up. He hides a tiny packet of aspirin in Roxy’s pockets, since she’s his best mate and all, but the rest will have to surface at some point and ask him or Merlin. Another light attempt to force them to socialize, though after that night they might all be too embarrassed to ever try again. Or it’ll bring them closer together, their shared shame.

(In hindsight, maybe just going to one pub would’ve done the trick. Six might’ve been overkill. Most of them might not even remember the entirety of the night.

It was worth it, don’t get him wrong, but he’ll probably have to organize more events. Which isn’t a hardship at all. He’s actually rather excited for it.)

He swaggers into Merlin’s lab, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“So Merlin.” 

“So Eggsy.” 

“I don’t suppose you have the footage from that mission of Harry’s, do you?” 

“As if I would ever let that die. My dear Bedivere, I believe you deserve a reward for your work tonight. The sheer amount of blackmail material you were able to give me—Yes, you have more than earned the right to view all of Harry’s embarrassing missions. Grab a seat.”

(They’re still watching hours later when a very hungover Harry stumbles in. They have leftover pizza and Eggsy made tea for them, though it’s all remained relatively untouched since they’re laughing. Merlin uses the slow-motion dial generously, which makes it even better.

Harry looks at them, looks at the screen, groans pitifully, and leaves without a word.)


	2. There is no way Mer-Mer is getting paid enough to put up with this crap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From anonymous: 
> 
> If you're still accepting prompts, could you do a Roxy & Eggsy friendship fic with aromantic Eggsy & bisexual Roxy? Thanks.

Eggsy is the best kind of friend. He picks up an extra coffee for her when he gets one for himself, always answers his phone, invites her over for dinner when she’s lonely, and is just /there/ for her. After years of empty relationships with two-faced academy kids, she finds him refreshing. She doesn’t deserve him, not in the least because she doesn’t really know how to reciprocate. 

On the flip-side, though, Eggsy can be unbelievably overbearing. When she went on a mission with a cold, he loaded her down with multiple scarves, a thermos of soup, extra-strength medication, and a teddy bear. 

“Look, sometimes when you’re sick you just wanna cuddle,” Eggsy said defensively. “And you’re gonna be on your own. Ain’t right you’re goin’ when you’re sick, Rox. Shoulda asked Merlin to reassign it.” 

(The worst part is that he’s never wrong. Because she did use the damn bear that night on the plane, and then again in the hotel when she was puking her guts out.) 

Spending a night at a club reminds her why, every once in awhile on a mission, she has the urge to wring his bloody neck. 

“She’s not bad lookin’. What ‘bout her?” 

“She’s fine. Doesn’t look like she’s looking for company though. I’ll pass.” 

Roxy grabs their drinks from the waiter. They’ve grabbed a small table for the night, right in the middle of the floor. It’s a posh enough place where they’ll stop by and refill their drinks rather than make them go to the bar, which is just the kind of lazy evening Roxy’s after. 

Eggsy takes his ditzy drink with an umbrella, sipping at it and seeming pleased by however they made it. Roxy doesn’t even try to remember the names of the strange concoctions he orders. She prefers to stick to classics, hence her martini. He mocks her for playing James Bond, but Roxy figures that she spent months training to be an international super spy and she deserves to have her Bond-moments. If it’s a cliche, well, whatever. 

“Well, what ‘bout him? He don’t look too gross–” 

“Your recommendations really, really should have higher bars than ‘not too gross’,” Roxy interrupts. She rolls her eyes. “Eggsy, just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I’ll fuck anyone. You can stop assuming my standards are low–” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He yelps, spinning to face her. “Rox, I’m sorry. I just. Really don’t know your type. At all. I didn’t mean it like that, swear on me mum.” 

She sighs, presses her glass to her forehead. “I know you didn’t, I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. I’m pissed I couldn’t make it work with James. I liked him a lot, you know?” 

“Yeah. ‘s not your fault it didn’t work out though. He was a bit of a prick.” 

“Yeah, and he had such a lovely one,” Roxy mutters. “God, it was a nice one. And he was good about dates, you know? Never missed one and didn’t get pissy when I did. But forget his birthday and suddenly I’m the bad guy.” 

“It’s ‘cause he’s a prick, Rox. Don’t sweat it. Let’s get you a rebound, yeah? You’re better off without him anyway.” 

Roxy sighs. “How are you able to just do that?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup. None of your boyfriends left you a wreck like mine do.” She chugs half of her glass, sighing. “Wish I could shut off like that.” 

“They wasn’t anything like that though. Ain’t boyfriends really,” Eggsy says. He rubs her back, shrugging at her surprised look. “Just one night stands. I ain’t about datin’, Rox. Thought you knew that.” 

“Not one of them meant anything?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Eggsy responds, a little sharply. “I’m just not interested in a long-term partner like that. It don’t work like that for me. I’m not–I like sex, Rox. But the extra stuff?” He shrugs again. “Nah. Not for me. Fairy tale romance ain’t my style.” 

Roxy frowns. “Isn’t that lonely? I mean, Eggsy, aren’t you going to want someone special some day? Maybe not now since we’re still young, but eventually–Don’t you want that special someone?” 

He shrugs, a little helplessly. “Rox, for me, I got no need for any of that. Ain’t interested. I got me mum, got Daisy, got you, got Merlin, got Harry–You all make me happy. You’re all my special people.” He grins, that small charming grin that Roxy thinks she could’ve fallen in love with if they weren’t already perfect as they are. “I’m good. Real good. I ain’t got another half, see? Ain’t no soulmate for Gary Unwin, not like you. Just a big family and some hot, anonymous sex every once in awhile.” 

Their waiter stops by with replacements, which Eggsy passes out this time. He finishes the last dredges of his first before starting on his second, and Roxy takes a second to chug half of the new one as well while she puzzles over Eggsy’s words. 

“Well,” She says finally. “You might want to tell Harry. I think he’s hoping you’ll come around soon and ride off into the sunset with him. Best let him down easy now that he signs our paychecks.” 

Eggsy snorts and she grins. “Ain’t my fault he can’t take a hint. For real though, I’d do him in a heartbeat if he wasn’t gettin’ feelin’s involved. Fit, posh bloke like that?” 

“I don’t know,” Roxy taps her chin, as if in deep thought. “The whole over-the-top gentleman schtick, the mentor thing he’s got going on with you–Kind of screams, ‘Daddy’. Not my cup of tea, personally.” 

“Bruv, if I could bang him, no strings attached, I’d call him whatever the fuck he wants. Daddy, Fredrick, King Harold of the Kinky Isles–With an arse like that, ain’t worth it bein’ picky ‘bout the semantics.” He winks and she collapses into helpless giggles. 

She doesn’t end up getting a rebound that night. Her and Eggsy drink themselves stupid, bitch about anything and everything, and drunkenly call Merlin to give them a ride home when it gets late. He bitches about it, but they know he likes that they trust him to keep them safe when they’re as trashed as they are, seeing as he never refuses them and marks his own calendar for their nights out. 

Plus, Eggsy doesn’t puke on the seats this time. Roxy counts the night as a win. 

“I understand you two are young, wild things,” Merlin says dryly. “But must you get completely wrecked so often?” 

“Oi, s’not ‘so often’,” Roxy says, using air-quotes. Eggsy’s passed out on her shoulder and snoring. “Don’t gotta be rude, Mer-mer. Just once a month. And, you know.” She stretches in the seat and giggles. “Don’t get to let go as much, yeah? Me and him, we just–Gets stressful, ‘s all. And we don’t get to hang out as proper best mates often ‘nough ‘cause of work and we never have the same assig-assiss–missions.” 

She giggles again when Eggsy readjusts his position and starts breathing into her neck. Merlin shakes his head. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to stay at mine tonight so you don’t wake up his mother, yes?” 

Roxy hiccups. “Please and thanks, Mer-mer.” 

“Please stop that’.” 

“’s cute, Merlin.” Eggsy pipes up, apparently less unconscious than previously thought. “I like it, a’least. Mer-mer, best designated driver ever!” 

Like the infants they are, they spend the rest of the ride chanting, “Mer-mer, Mer-mer!” in between his irritated exclamations. 

(The best part about friendship with Eggsy, Roxy thinks, is that they don’t have to understand each other completely. He accepts her for who she is, in all of her snappy, bossy, melancholic, insensitive glory. She accepts him for who he is, even as overbearing and clueless as he can be. 

So even though she knows Eggsy doesn’t understand why she’s so desperate for a long-term partner, and even though he knows she doesn’t fully understand the concept of aromanticism, they both accept that they don’t understand. They let the other one talk and share their opinions, share their frustrations, and they listen and sympathize, even if they can’t empathize completely. 

There’s something inherently comforting in how Eggsy says, “I’m sorry you’re goin’ through this. I don’t know what it’s like but I can listen and brush your hair while you bitch if you’d like.” )


	3. Eggsy's Queerplatonic Polyamorous Relationship: The worst kept secret in Kingsman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From anonymous: 
> 
> eggsy never asks for anything; he gets all flustered when somebody brings him a cuppa for crying out loud and god forbid he go out to eat. but he'd do anything for every one else. those at kingsman aren't quite sure why he's like that, until he mentions how he was scared that if he asked for anything, dean might beat his mum and always tried to take the heat off his mum; "better me than 'er, innit?" he says. roxy, Merlin, harry and the others are quietly horrified.
> 
> Warnings: implied child abuse/domestic abuse

(At first, it’s endearing.) 

It’s late, closer to morning than evening, when Merlin hears someone walk in. He has had the day from Hell–Three agents in delicate situations, two techs down thanks to an experiment gone wrong, and the regular workload on top of that–meaning Merlin hasn’t left the office in forty-eight hours. 

He doesn’t turn around, just lets his head thunk to his desk. “If this is another fucking emergency just put me out of my misery now. Gun to the forehead would be preferable.” 

Merlin startles at the hand that picks up his own and wraps it around a warm, ceramic mug. He picks his head up and stares stupidly at the steaming tea now in his hand, before letting his eyes rise to see whoever brought it. 

Eggsy, in his suit sans jacket with his glasses pushed to the top of his head, a little bruised from his last assignment–But it’s Eggsy for sure who gives him a small smile and says, “Looked like you needed it more than me, bruv. Can I help at all?” 

He wraps both hands around the mug, taking an extra second to let his brain process this development. The warmth is seeping into his numb fingers (a consequence of typing and swiping on tablets in an underground lab with not enough heating) and already he feels slightly more human. If he could have fifteen minutes for tea without human interaction, he might have a chance of surviving the rest of this hellish day. 

“No,” He drawls out at last. “But thank you, Eggsy.” 

Breathing in the steam for a second, he waits for Eggsy to say anything about why he’s in the lab. Normally, their Bedivere visits for any number of reasons: To escape his paperwork, to beg for a different mission (”It’s the baby’s birthday, Merl–Please? Please please please–” “Oh my god shut up and I’ll think about it.”), or to try and convince Merlin to go drinking with him. He always has a reason, is the point. 

So he waits and is surprised when Eggsy shoves his hands into his pockets and wanders back out with a light wave. 

The door shuts quietly with barely a click. With a murmur of, “Huh,” Merlin leans back in his seat and finally drinks from the mug. His lips curl into a satisfied smile when the burst of lemon hits his tongue. 

Seems their Eggsy has more tact than previously believed. Color him impressed. 

(How was he supposed to know Eggsy hates lemon? That he most likely specifically made it for him? He doesn’t have tabs on every part of the boy’s life.)

—

A week later, Harry walks in with a large paper bag. He heard vaguely through the grapevine that morning about the disastrous, sleepless night in which Eggsy and Merlin had to walk Roxy through a mission gone haywire. Eggsy had been directing her and dictating appropriate responses for a drug deal gone wrong, trying to get her out of there without having her fingers cut off. Merlin, meanwhile, was using the information she’d already sent back to them to make enough evidence appear in order to hand them off to the police if proceedings took a turn for the worse. 

Merlin didn’t have to make any calls, in the end. Roxy left with all of her digits, a little roughed up but ultimately fine. 

She’s back for the briefing, that morning, eyes bruised and her wrist wrapped. Eggsy’s nudging her with his elbow, grinning and teasing until she laughs and looks a little less like death. Merlin, delightful man that he is, snatches the bag from Harry the moment he recognizes the label. 

“I swear to God, Harry–” 

“There is, in fact, a chocolate one in there. I learned my lesson last time,” Harry interrupts dryly. “Leave some for our youngest, please.” 

Merlin shoves the bag into Roxy’s hands, half of a croissant already shoved in his mouth. He turns back to his tablet, mumbling through a full mouth, “This can wait until everyone’s eaten something.” 

Roxy digs through until she finds a blueberry scone the size of her head. She sends Harry a grateful look as she shoves the bag over to Eggsy. Eggsy looks at it in confusion, eyes flickering from Roxy, to the bag, to Harry at last. 

Taking pity on him, as the night must have taken more out of him than any of them though, Harry worms a hand into the bag and pulls out the one thing he knows Eggsy will like. He places it in Eggsy’s hand, smiling lightly at his bewildered, awed look. 

“You didn’t have to grab nothin’ for me, bruv,” Eggsy says abruptly, letting the pastry drop to the table. “I’m fine–” 

“Eggsy, I can hear your stomach growling,” Harry responds, bemused. “Eat the turnover. It’s apple.” 

Eggsy squirms, visibly uncomfortable. “You really didn’t have to, geez Harry.” He picks it up though, smoothing out the tissue around it. A finger taps against it uncertainly.

His eyes still flicker around and his hands move around restlessly, until Merlin snaps, “Eat the damn pastry, we’re not debriefing on empty stomachs. And I know for a fact you haven’t eaten for at least a full day—Yes, see, I wouldn’t except you have this nasty habit of forgetting to turn off your transmission. So put that turnover in your cakehole and shut up with the placation. He was very happy to go to his posh bakery, I assure you.” 

He flushes, ducks his head, and takes a bite at last, more delicate than they have ever seen him. As he, for lack of a better word, nibbles, Roxy and Merlin start chatting about the overarching implications of her interaction last night, trying to work out if it’d be suicidal to send her back next week. 

Eggsy carefully finishes it by the time the conversation is drawing to a close, and as he stands up to throw away the trash, Harry catches him throw an amazed, starry-eyed glance his way. 

It’s cute. A response caused by sleep deprivation and low blood sugar, no doubt, but cute nonetheless. 

(It was just a bloody pastry, Harry argues later.) 

— 

Roxy truly believed that her becoming a Kingswoman would get her out of familial obligations. Naïve, yes, but she had a wonderful fantasy of never having to go to a ridiculous banquet because she’d be too busy shooting terrorists while sipping a martini. Especially after helping save the world—She’s honestly surprised only her uncle was involved in the V-Day fiasco

“Lancelot, it’s hardly my fault your family appears to have friends in low places,” Merlin states bluntly. “You’re our ticket in, which means you have to go.”

“Merlin, they won’t let me in unless I’ve decided to be a ‘respectable young lady’,” She retorts. She crosses her arms sullenly, slouching in her seat. “That means we’d have to come up with a paper trail for me marrying rich, fake a position in a high enough social setting to support said ‘respectability’ but low enough they wouldn’t have heard about it, and my ‘husband’ would have to be have suitable but unintimidating levels of respectability as well. We have contacts, but making that kind of background where we have people vouching for our place in society and vouching that me and my ‘husband’ have a perfectly acceptable marriage—Oh, and we’d have to find a way to squash those nasty rumors of me being gay as well. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”

Harry cuts in with a snort. “Is this the 19th century? Did your father lock you in a tower until you came of age to ensure your purity as well?”

Roxy clears her throat, crosses her legs at the ankle, and titters. While flipping her hair over her shoulder, she murmurs with a calculated balance of haughtiness and submission, “A lady never speaks ill of the men in her life.”

Eggsy shudders. “Shit, Rox. That’s fuckin’ unnatural, ‘s what it is.”

“Don’t do that ever again.” Merlin shudders as well and slides a tablet over to her, continuing once she picks it up. “Well, we have three months until your family’s annual gala. I’m sure we can work with that time frame. And we already have an agent with an alias that has a recognized place in high society—If we announce your marriage within a week, it should work fine, shouldn’t it?”

Roxy recoils and lets the tablet clatter onto the table. “I will not faux-marry Gawain. He’s atrocious. And handsy.”

“I know he’s a prick—Believe me, I know,” Merlin sighs at her slowly reddening face. “But it’s the quickest option. We’ll have him divorce his current faux-wife and leave his faux-family—“

“What if Eggsy did the op?” She cuts in, relaxing suddenly. “He can be Gawain’s faux-son. It’ll be more believable—A whirlwind romance, we eloped and returned to mend things with both families—“

“First of all, that would be needlessly complicated,” Merlin retorts harshly. “Second of all, Bedivere has requested no deep cover missions until his mother’s divorce is worked through—“

“He won’t even have to be deep cover, though. We live close so he’ll never be more than a cab away from the baby and Michelle, and I’ll only need him for family dinners and then the gala itself.” Her voice turns pleading. “Merlin, Gawain is unbearable—Can’t we tweak this? Just a tad?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Eggsy. Thoughts? This would ultimately inconvenience you the most.”

Eggsy blinks. Sans hesitation, he responds, “Course. Whatever Rox needs. I’ll make it work.”

Roxy relaxes in her seat, sighing with relief. “God, yes. I owe you.”

Eggsy gives her a weird look. “No you don’t. You’re my best mate, Rox. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

(If she had any idea the problems this op would open up—Hell, she’d fucking blow Gawain if it made things better.)

—

Two weeks before the gala, it’s Eggsy’s birthday.

Traditionally, this means nothing. It’s another day at work. Agents typically don’t see each other outside of meetings or co-ops, which means almost no one knows anything about the personal lives of the others. Harry only learned Merlin’s real name after they spent thirty-six hours duct-taped together in the boot of a mini van—So birthdays never really came up.

Unfortunately, Eggsy is unbearably lovable. He’s a giver, in every sense of the word, and it feels wrong not to acknowledge that in some way in their strange, tiny work-family-ish—well, their thing they have. It won’t be anything extravagant. Something for the four of them, a reminder of why they do what they do, a “thanks for taking care of us” to Eggsy, a show of appreciation—Whatever it is, it feels important that they do it.

There’s not a lot they get to do privately together. Since Eggsy has the first birthday of the group, it seems like a good time to start their own traditions.

So Roxy starts organizing until her undercover-with-family duties call her away, at which point the responsibility is passed onto Harry. Merlin ensures that all of them will have the evening free, guaranteed without a doubt. He discretely finishes half of Eggsy’s paperwork when it becomes clear he’s leaving it until that evening in particular, which just won’t do.

Of course, their carefully laid plans fall apart.

Kingsman Manor goes into lockdown due to a supposed security breach in their systems. No one can enter or leave for forty-eight hours, regardless of how angrily Merlin types in his override codes, how furiously Harry calls the other branches.

“Were the bars on the window really necessary?” Roxy asks, a hint of a snarl in her voice. She kicks at the metal door that had previously been an exit, cursing under her breath.

“It is a bit overkill, innit?” Eggsy adds, snickering when Harry rounds on him, nostrils flaring. “C’mon, bruv. Pretty funny seein’ all you worked up like this. Cut me some slack.” He yawns. “S’not a big deal, ain’t like we’re gonna be stuck forever. And we got food and facilities.” He tilts his chair back and grins widely. “Take it as a paid vacation. We can sleep in, not worry ‘bout shit for a couple of days.”

Merlin snaps, “The world doesn’t stop just because we’re stuck here. Kingsman still has responsibilities—“

“What responsibilities? Ain’t everyone on milk runs right now? Don’t sound like nothin’ that can’t wait until this is sorted.” Eggsy holds his hands out, an attempt at placating when Merlin opens his mouth again. “I ain’t sayin’ it’s ideal, but what’re you gonna do? Cut your way out? Let the American branch cover for us, they owe us, yeah?” He lets his chair right itself so he can stand up and wrap an arm around Roxy and Merlin in one movement. “Chill, guys. Ain’t so bad, havin’ the entire manor to ourselves. I, for one, am a genius at cookin’ with shit conditions like this.”

Harry’s shoulders relax all at once. “Well, we won’t have to dip into those skills of yours tonight, I don’t think.” He leaves the room, giving Roxy and Merlin a pointed look.

“Where’s he goin’?” Eggsy mutters, confused. “I hadn’t even mentioned playin’ charades, I was expectin’ him to leave then—“

“Hey, Eggsy,” Roxy starts slowly. “You trust us, yes?”

“With my life,” He answers without pausing. “Why?”

“I’m going to blindfold you, and you’re not going to freak out.” She unties her own tie, holding it out with a sly grin. “Can we do that?”

“Well shit, if I knew we was gettin’ to the kinky stuff today I would’ve worn my pretty pants—“

“Shut it. Don’t be crass,” Merlin interjects. “Yes or no, Eggsy?”

He shrugs. “Go for it. Like I said, I trust you.”

Harry returns to Eggsy sitting in a chair, tie covering his eyes. Merlin dimmed the lights, and Roxy has found a lighter—carefully examined it to ensure they don’t try to light candles with a grenade—and they quietly set it all up in minutes.

She carefully removes the makeshift blindfold, smiling lightly. “Happy Birthday, Eggsy.”

The chocolate raspberry cake came from Harry’s favorite bakery, Roxy found bright pink candles to shove onto it, and Merlin provided the actual gift—a wrapped box with a precise blue bow on top, holding a modified Rainmaker (now collapsible and better suited for Eggsy’s own fighting style).

“We did have plans to take you out for the performance in town you expressed interest in seeing. And we had reservations for an Italian restaurant that I was certain you’d enjoy,” Harry adds wryly. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to make either, however. Perhaps we can reschedule?”

Eggsy’s staring at the cake, mouth parted just the tiniest bit. Merlin snaps a picture through his glasses, smirking lightly.

Because Harry is the sap of the bunch, he starts them actually singing Happy Birthday to a bewildered, wide-eyed Eggsy. Merlin hams it up, comfortable in his skin in a way most people would kill for, and Roxy demonstrates, once again, her tone deafness.

When they finish, Eggsy still hasn’t snapped out of his shock. Roxy nudges him with her elbow, still grinning. “Go ahead and blow out the candle, birthday boy.”

They all freeze at the sound of a tiny, miniscule sniffle. Eggsy’s lower lip is trembling and he’s pointedly not looking anywhere except the cake. Their eyes all meet over his head.

“Eggsy? What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’!” He says, voice choked. “This is great, guys, thank you-u—“ His voice breaks and he slaps both hands over his mouth.

“Oh my god, please don’t cry,” Roxy pleads.

Muffled behind his palms, an exclamation of: “’m not cryin’!”

“Eggsy,” Harry drawls out fondly, shaking his head. “What’s wrong, dear?”

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes while his shoulders shake. “It’s just—This is so nice, I can’t believe you guys—“

Roxy and Harry both look at Merlin. Neither are the best at handling tears—They don’t receive bodyguard missions often for that exact reason—and normally Eggsy is the go-to bloke for emotions. Merlin comes in second, though, so they wait for him to take over.

Sure enough, Merlin chuckles. Wraps an arm around his shoulders. Coos, “Oh lad. Our sweet, ridiculous lad.” He rubs his arm soothingly. “Aren’t you going to blow out your candles?”

(This is where they all start worrying. Because all that—Weird, but not an unbelievable reaction what with the stress Eggsy has been dealing with.

But the rest of the two days? The two days where he was staring at all of them with awe he didn’t even try to disguise? The two days where he blushed and said an earnest, “Thank you, luv. It was really great, really—“ to each of them in a painfully heartfelt tone? The two days where he seemed deliriously ecstatic with no end of his joy in sight?

The three of them share uncertain glances.

A cake and present shouldn’t be groundbreaking.)

(And none of that even includes the anxious way he looks at the bill when they go to the show and restaurant, about a week later on a slow night.

He offers to pay—“It’s your birthday gift, put that away,” Roxy slaps his hand lightly—and keeps giving them these strange looks. Strange looks with a mixture of wariness, as if they’re going to shove his plate out of his hand and yell, “Just kidding!”, and utter joy, as if he’s soaking it up before they say the punch line.

It’s eerie. Unnerving. Extremely concerning.)

—

The beginning of the gala goes off without a hitch. Eggsy and Roxy have wormed their way into the Morton family’s good graces through weeks of kissing arse, paving the way for a smooth evening. They titter and make demands and act like generally awful human beings.

Her father, leaving Eggsy to “get drinks”, pulls Roxy away at one point. It’s the first opportunity they have for Eggsy to engage the mark so he winks, straightens his glasses, and leaves.

Somewhere in between her father expressing sentimental joy over her “fixing herself for the good of the family” and his ridiculous claims about why the economy was shit, Merlin murmurs in her ear, “We’ve lost visual on Bedivere. It seems that the mark recognized him.”

Roxy’s certain that her face shows nothing, but she’s also certain that Merlin can see on his monitor how her pulse spikes at the information. She gives a vague excuse to her father before exiting the room as discretely as she can manage.

“Where did you see him last?” She murmurs once no one is within earshot.

Thus begins a long, three-hour search of London. Thanks to her family’s paranoia, Merlin watched the mark drag Eggsy out of the manor and into a black car through the security cameras, followed it through traffic cameras, and arranged for transportation for her to follow. Every once in awhile he’d lose the car and Roxy would be left searching on her own until he picks up the trail again—Eventually, Merlin calls in Harry to talk to her and pass on information while he runs programs to find their lost agent.

Roxy, never the patient one of the group, sighs in relief when Harry says, with certainty, “He’s in the warehouse on your right. First floor. Don’t engage. Get him out and leave.”

Subtlety isn’t her strong point, but she manages to sneak in, clap a hand over Eggsy’s mouth, and drag him out to her getaway vehicle in record time. They had left him alone, like amateurs, tied to a chair and gagged. A situation Roxy knows he could normally get out of.

She cuts him free. Gives him a light pat on the back when she notices his dazed look before getting behind the wheel and flooring it out of there. “Are you injured?” She asks at Harry’s insistence.

Roxy hears him smack his lips together before murmuring, “Naw. But they did gimme somethin’ hella strong, bruv. ‘m on toppa fuckin’ cloud right now, swearin’ it to God.”

“What happened to your glasses?”

“Brokeded.” He hums, sinking down in his seat. “Life’s good, innit? We got good things goin’ on, good things out the fuckin’ arse. Swear it.”

“Of course, Eggsy.” Roxy responds distractedly, busy listening to Merlin and Harry discuss the possibilities of what he was given.

“And like, I got all yous. All yous bein’ so nice,” He jumps up in his seat, jolted out of his calm. “Rox. Yous so fuckin’ nice. Can I do anythin’ for you? I could braid your hair or go get you tea—“

“Eggsy, we’re in a car. Thank you though.”

She starts to tune out, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel at the traffic around them. Harry and Merlin are arguing about symptoms and current street drugs, along with the reputation of their mark and the likelihood he would have any experimental substances they wouldn’t know about. She startles when he grabs her wrist in a tight grip.

“No no no, I mean it. Can I do anythin’?” He stares at her earnestly; pupils blown and a thin sheen of sweat dotting his upper lip. “I can be useful, promise. Please. I can—‘m good, ‘m good at stuff. I can earn it, I can—!”

“Hey,” She frowns, tugging her wrist out of his hold. “Eggsy, earn what?” He stares at her, distress growing on his face. “You’re fine. Relax. We’re going back to the manor and Merlin will fix you up. Okay?”

He wrings his hands. Shuffles in his seat. Continues staring at her with large, confused eyes.

The rest of the drive continues in silence. She pulls the car into the Kingsman garage-slash-hanger, relieved to see Harry and Merlin already waiting there for them. She’s quick to jump out and fill them in on the other symptoms she noted from Eggsy. Harry goes to Eggsy’s side to help him out—To be rebuffed, actually.

Eggsy’s curled in on himself and stares at Harry warily. Patiently, Harry holds out a hand. “Come here, dear. Let’s get you fixed up. I’m sure we have some sort of detox treatment we can use to get that shit out of your system sooner rather than later.”

He shakes his head. “I ain’t needin’ no help.”

“It’s okay—“

“No no no!” He shrieks suddenly, causing all three of them to jump. “You guys—Why do you do that? Why do you—I can handle me, I can, do you think I’m dumb?”

“Of course not,” Harry soothes, holding both hands away. “We—“

“’Cause I don’t get it, I don’t, ‘cause I’m—I take care, I ain’t needin’ nothin’, that’s m-m-me—“

“Eggsy, it’s okay,” He raises his voice over Eggsy’s high-pitched words. “Please calm down, it’s okay—“

“And you just do it and gonna hold it over me head like Dean did, but I dunno what for!” He wails, hands weaving into his hair. “I already’ll do whatever for you, and for Rox, and for Merl, and for Kings—B-but you keep doin’ those things, like the turnover and birthday and ‘s all so nice but you gotta want somethin’ for it, you gotta!”

Harry sends Merlin a helpless look, his horrified bewilderment matching Roxy’s. Merlin’s face is carefully blank as he stalks over and takes Harry’s place in the car door’s opening.

“Eggsy, lad,” Merlin says quietly, hands folded behind his back. “I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?” He waits patiently for Eggsy to swipe at his eyes and nod, hesitantly. “Good lad. I need you to understand. We don’t want anything. You don’t have to do anything for us—“

“But I do! If I don’t it’s not fair—“

“Eggsy. Listen, don’t speak. Got it?” Merlin cuts him off. Eggsy sniffles and nods again. “You don’t. We appreciate when you do something for us—I don’t think any of us properly thanked you for taking this mission, but we did appreciate you going out of your way to make a difficult situation easier on Roxy. But you didn’t have to. We would’ve understood if you backed out. You have a lot going on right now, after all. We would’ve understood.

“But you do those things because they make you feel good too, right?” He adds quickly when Eggsy opens his mouth. It shuts and Eggsy nods, earnestness in his features once more. “You like helping us because you get to see us happy and safe?” Eggsy nods again. “Lad, we like that for you as well. We want you happy and safe too.”

The complete shock that takes over Eggsy’s dazed face hurts worse a knife to the heart. “But. You do?” His brows furrow.

“Yes, you silly, ridiculous thing, you. You could ask for the world and we’d do our best to give it to you.”

Eggsy worries his lower lip between his teeth, eying Merlin warily. Merlin holds one hand out for him, raising an eyebrow until Eggsy takes it and lets himself be pulled out of the car.

“So. If I asked for help. With mum’s divorce. An’ gettin’ a restrainin’ order. An’ if I didn’t feel good goin’ on the missions with sex and asked not to. That’d be. Not bad?”

“No, Eggsy. We’d be more than happy to help. We can handle all of it. I’ll take you off honeypot missions from now on.”

“An’ you ain’t gonna yell an’ be mad?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

Merlin tugs Eggsy into a tight hold, sheltering him with his body and tucking him under his arm. Roxy’s fists are trembling, her lips pressed tightly together. Harry, in contrast, has turned an alarming shade of white.

(While Eggsy recovers, sleeping off the relatively harmless drug—an early experiment in a truth serum, if their analysis is correct—they have heated discussions about guilt, debt, and care.

[“You knew,” Roxy states, disbelieving. “You knew about this Dean character, then? Both of you?”

Merlin snaps, “I knew he existed, I didn’t know he’s apparently traumatized Eggsy for life. He’s a petty drug dealer, low-life scum—It was in the background check since he married Michelle but that’s it, Lancelot—“ he cuts off at Harry, who’s pointedly avoiding their gazes. “Galahad. You knew?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” He says defensively. “I would’ve intervened if I knew. I just assumed—It seemed like a family matter—“

“A family matter?” Roxy roars. “Are you fucking kidding me? For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you?”]

[Merlin scrubs his face with both hands. “He feels indebted to us. To Kingsman in particular, but especially to us. Harry, you got him out of whatever mess his life was before. I taught him and helped him through training and V-Day. Roxy, you supported him and had his back with the rest of the recruits, along with having his back on missions.”

“It might not be that,” Harry, holding his glass of scotch on the rocks to his swelling cheek, retorts. “You said it yourself, he likes helping. He’s a giver—“

“By choice or for survival?” Roxy snaps. “He talked about ‘earning’ something earlier. And he used a lot of ‘requirement’ words. ‘Have to’, ‘need to’, sort of thing.”]

[“Regardless,” Merlin cuts in before they can get into it again. Roxy’s hair is falling out of her fancy up-do she had for the party and Harry’s cradling his wrist. “We can’t ignore this. He’ll need a psych eval, at the least. Perhaps even seeing someone would be beneficial.”

“You mean like a therapist?” She grimaces. “He doesn’t seem the type to agree to that easily.”

Harry murmurs, “No, he won’t. But if we all ask him I doubt he’ll say no.”

Roxy’s face tightens in anger. “That’s taking advantage of our positions in his life—“

“But if it gets him help, isn’t it worth it? He’ll be more amenable to it if we phrase it as a question from concerned partners as opposed to a work order.”]

Eventually, they have a general game plan.)

Eggsy is still groggy and a little out of it when they go back to visit him. He’s awake, but barely. Eyes squinting at them, his face clears and softens when he recognizes them.

“Hey, my fave people,” He murmurs. Smiles. Adds, “Here to make sure I didn’t blab nothin’?”

“More to give you some information,” Roxy responds. She opens the thick folder in her arms and clears her throat. “Your mother shouldn’t have any more problems with the divorce. Multiple restraining orders are being pushed through concerning Dean Baker, but will be mostly unnecessary seeing as he’s being arrested as we speak.” Carefully handing Eggsy a paper at a time, she adds, “We’ve also taken the liberty of waiving the fees for the school you’ve been looking at for your sister.”

Eggsy blinks slowly. Merlin ruffles his hair with a chuckle. “Er. What?”

“Don’t worry about it right now. Health-wise, you seem fine. We’re giving you the next week off though, and most of it will be spent here since we still aren’t sure what the drug was. We’d like to keep an eye on you to ensure there’s no negative side effects.”

“Okay. Figured that.”

“Also, Harry has a few things to say to you.” Roxy shoves the man forward viciously, having allowed him to hang back for long enough. “We’ll leave you both to it for now. I’ll bring you lunch, okay Eggsy?”

“Sure,” He responds, dazed. Harry takes a seat on the edge of the bed without making eye contact with anyone.

“Press the blue button if you need anything, red if it’s an emergency. You know the drill, I’m sure.” Merlin adds with a gentle wave goodbye.

They leave the two, Harry fidgeting with his cuffs and Eggsy squinting at the papers. The last thing they hear is, “Jesus, Harry, your face—Who’d you piss off?”

(He still brings them tea and blankets and somehow always, always knows exactly what they’re craving. But he also learns to say no when they ask for too much and how to ask for help.

Harry is thrilled when Eggsy asks him to babysit his little sister. Roxy takes tea with his mother when Eggsy’s on missions, to keep his peace of mind, and she builds a good friendship with the woman at his request. Merlin is the first he asks to be a shoulder to cry on.

They all take turns taking him out to dinner once a week.

It’s good. All of it. They make it work.)


End file.
